


When I'm With You

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, YouTuber Liam, YouTuber Niall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-22 22:05:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4852202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For withbatedbreath. Thank you for your brilliant prompts, there were so many amazing things to choose from. I hope you like this.</p>
    </blockquote>





	When I'm With You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [withbatedbreath (heart_eyes)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heart_eyes/gifts).



> For withbatedbreath. Thank you for your brilliant prompts, there were so many amazing things to choose from. I hope you like this.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Harry says for the third time in seventeen minutes.

“Maybe you should cancel. He could be dangerous.” Harry pauses as if the words suddenly tumbled out of his head, an odd, confused look on his face. 

"He's not dangerous," Niall says automatically. "You watch him on Youtube, Harry. He drinks kale and runs ten miles a day. You should like him."

Harry frowns. "I _do_ like him. That isn’t the point. It’s one thing to like someone’s Youtube channel, Niall. Letting them come and stay with you for a weekend just isn’t safe.”

Niall just barely resists rolling his eyes. They’ve had versions of this conversation nearly every day since Niall told Harry that Liam was coming to Edinburgh for the weekend. He doesn’t know how to make it clearer that Liam is the least threatening person Niall could invite to stay with him. He has a pet turtle named Gotham, for crying out loud. 

If it were anyone else, Niall might have conceded that Harry has a right to be concerned about Niall inviting a relative stranger to stay with him. But they’ve been best mates long enough now that Niall knows not to give an inch. 

And there’s also the fact that Liam wouldn’t kill a spider, let alone harm a human being. 

“I understand,” Niall says, words that are meant to appease Harry and get him off the subject. Harry takes his responsibility as Niall’s best mate to serious, overprotective levels. He would never admit it out loud, but he kind of likes the way Harry fusses over him like a dottering aunt, nosing his way into Niall’s personal business and getting away with it because he’s Harry. 

His phone buzzes with another text and his face gets warm when he sees it’s from Liam. Liam’s been texting him all day, adorable little messages and photos. He opens the text to find a selfe of Liam waiting for his train in London, the held out above him and his eyes all soft and smiley. 

Niall texts him back a blushing emoji and a flirty _can’t wait to see your face for real_.

Harry's youtube channel is a mess, and yet 200,000 thousand viewers subscribe to watch him recite maudlin poetry and balance on his head in his underwear. Niall doesn't get it but it seems to work for him. And anyway, he watches videos of Liam grinding broccoli into juice and talking about how many reps he does on his arms. 

“Are you listening? You’re not, are you, did you hear what I said?”

"I always listen to you,” Niall says absently. He looks up from his laptop. The video he’s editing isn’t scheduled to go up until Monday but he doesn’t plan on having a free minute over the weekend. “I spend seventy percent of my life listening to you." 

“I don’t think that’s accurate. And I don’t think you were listening to me just now. What did I say?”

"Oh fucking christ,” Zayn says without any heat, his voice sleepy, “will you two shut up already.” 

Niall wants to tell them to get out of his flat already. There’s no reason for them to be here, Zayn’s been napping on Niall’s bed for the better part of the afternoon while Harry goes through in great detail, his list of video ideas for his Youtube channel. 

Zayn and Harry have their own place but for reasons beyond Niall, they spend most of the time they aren’t fucking hanging at his. He’d like to think it’s for his winning personality and sparkling wit but it’s more likely that his fridge always has beer and proper food and he spends most of his evenings working his way through the Jamie Oliver collection of cookbooks he’s purchased over the years. Last year it was Nigella Lawson. 

Niall snorts at the way Harry’s face changes suddenly, a dramatic downturn of his mouth and big, sad eyes. “Heyyyy,” he says. 

Niall's done listening. He scrolling through his Twitter feed. There's a new tweet from Liam. _@fitliam: getting on the train. see you soon @niallar #happynerves_.

He grins, his stomach going warm and doing that little flip it always does when Liam’s involved. Niall hits “reply” and writes _@naillar: @fitliam can’t wait ! absolutely buzzing_. He hesitates and then adds the kissing emoji. 

“That’s sweet,” Harry says, very seriously and very monotone, hovering over Niall’s shoulder. 

Niall pushes Harry away with a palm against his face. 

“I should come with you,” Harry tells him, moving Niall’s laptop away and sitting on his desk. Harry’s like a damned cat - planting himself in Niall’s way constantly, refusing to be ignored no matter how determined Niall is. 

In seven years of friendship, Niall has learned that Harry can out-wait him, out-stubborn him and has never learned to take “no” at face value. 

Niall looks past Harry to Zayn, who’s on his back watching Harry fondly. It’s disgusting how Zayn, reserved and intelligent and aloof, can turn to complete mush where Harry’s involved. He gives Zayn a look he hopes conveys how hopeless he thinks Zayn is. 

Zayn just gives him a “what can you do?” shrug in return. 

“You’re not coming with me,” Niall says and gets to his feet. “I told you, we’ll have brunch in the morning. You can meet him then.” 

Harry gets up and like a damned overgrown housecat follows him across the room, hovering and getting in his way as Niall starts pulling shirts out of his closet. He’s had something picked out for the last week but he’s changed a dozen times. 

It doesn’t really matter what he wears. Liam’s seen his Youtube videos, his post therapy sweaty selfies, the series of self-pitying photos he took when he was in bed with the flu for a week. Liam’s seen them all. But this is different. He wants the first time they see each other in person to be perfect. 

“Don’t wear that,” Harry says, taking the shirt Niall’s chosen from him and putting it back on the rack. He picks something out from the back of the closet. “Wear this instead.”

Niall frowns. It’s a navy blue button down with white flowers that Harry gave him for Christmas last year. If it weren’t for the fact that it fit him perfectly, Niall would have suspected Harry had taken it from his own closet. 

Niall hesitates. It’s a nice shirt and he does look alright in it. He shakes his head. “I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.” 

In the end he settles on his black v-neck and dark jeans. He knows he looks good and he doesn’t look like he spent weeks obsessing over what to wear. 

 

*

Niall knew who Liam was. The entire Youtube community of vloggers had watched him go from an uncomfortable, shy sixteen year old to the guy who posted photos of himself shirtless with bedhead and a “just fucked” pout. 

“You know,” Harry said, poking at Niall with the end of his chopstick, “I think you should do something a little more current.” 

“What’s wrong with Landslide? Everyone loves that song.” Niall stuffed his tuna roll into his mouth. He liked Sushi well enough but it always left him feeling hungry. 

“Nothing,” Harry shrugged. “Everyone loves it and anyone who plays a guitar has covered it on Youtube.”

Niall didn’t think taking advice from Harry would get him very far. But what did he know - Harry had three hundred thousand subscribers who apparently liked to watch him do yoga in his pants and explain the health benefits of a raw diet over a vegan one. 

Niall’s mobile buzzed with a Youtube notification that @fitliam had posted a new video. 

He muted his phone and opened the video as Harry chattered at him. 

Liam was in a vest with his hair styled in a fauxhawk. He had a few days’ worth of beard on his jaw and his skin was darker from a holiday in France he’d vlogged about earlier in the week. He was really beautiful. He was broad in the shoulders and chest and a little narrower in the waist, built solidly like he could pick you up in a fireman’s lift and carry you off into the wind. Not that Niall was interested in anything like that. 

He watched the video, half listening to Harry’s lecture on keeping his Youtube content fresh. On screen, Liam was telling everyone about his newest challenge - thirty days of planks. 

“Oh shit,” Niall breathed as the camera cut to Liam in nothing but a small pair of shorts, sweat already glistening on his shoulders and upper back as he held himself up on the tips of his toes and his forearms. His body was ridiculous, the muscles in his back flexing from the effort of holding the plank. 

Niall jolted as Harry kicked him beneath the table. "You're drooling."

"Fuck off," Niall muttered, touching the screen to pull up a comment box. 

He'd been leaving comments on Liam's videos lately, little offhand remarks he hoped read as “casual” and not “hopelessly infatuated.” Liam had half a million subscribers to his channel, his videos received hits in the hundreds of thousands and there were always pages and pages of comments. Niall had no illusions that Liam even knew who he was.

His fingers hovered over the screen. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say that wasn’t _holy shit please marry me_. 

"I'm saying,” Harry continued, “ you need to branch out and try something different. Cover a genre that's new to you.” He paused, thinking. “You should do a Frank Ocean song.” 

Niall snorted. “What do you even know about Frank Ocean?” 

Harry frowned, wounded. “I know about Frank Ocean. Zayn sings his songs in the shower.” 

“Maybe,” he said. His videos had felt a little stale lately, his views stalling at in the low hundreds of thousands. He wasn’t going to admit it out loud to Harry, but covering something different was probably a good idea. 

He typed _amazing ! i’d fall on me arse if I tried that !_ and tried not to think about it too much. 

* 

Niall's perpetually early, always five minutes ahead of everyone, a holdover from having to get himself up and off to school when he was younger and being raised by his Da.

The train station is a short walk from his flat and he gets there ten minutes before Liam’s train is scheduled to arrive. The station is crowded with Friday afternoon traffic raising the noise level. 

He gets himself an iced coffee from starbucks and checks the arrival times. According to the board, Liam's train is on time. He told Liam he’d wait for him at the front so he finds an empty bench and sits to kill time. He has a dozen unread Twitter notifications, a string of texts from Harry and another photo from Liam. He bites his lip against a smile and slides his phone open. Liam is the prince of selfies, from early morning bedhead to post-workout and sweat-soaked, he shares everything on his Twitter and Instagram and in his videos. 

Niall’s face goes warm when he opens the photo. There’s nothing special about it, just a quick snapshot of Liam with his head against the window of the train and the English countryside passing by in a blur. But the way he’s looking at the camera, his eyes dark and smiling, makes Niall flush. Liam’s so good at the smoulder and this one makes Niall feel like he needs to be doused in cold water. 

Niall doesn't get nervous meeting new people, but he's anxious to meet Liam. They've spent so many months talking, flirting, building up to this moment, it feels enormous and fragile. 

He starts to look for Liam at ten past, watching the passengers empty into the station and scanning the crowd. 

He gets to his feet to see a little better and his breath catches, stomach flipping, as he spots Liam through the crush of people. He watches him for a moment, taking in the sight of him. He’s even lovelier in person in a jean jacket, his hair swept out of his eyes and styled. He’s got a rucksack over one shoulder and his phone in his hand and he looks like he stepped from the pages of an advert.

Niall bins his coffee and starts walking towards him, hoping his nerves don’t show. He knows the second Liam’s seen him - his smile breaks across his face like sunlight through a storm. His eyes go all squinty at the corners and Niall feels his stomach swoop to his toes. Fuck, he’s already so far gone. 

“Hi,” Niall says over the loud thump of his heartbeat roaring in his ears. It comes out winded, like he’s just sprinted. 

Liam’s smile goes softer, settling into something quiet and private. Fuck. Niall’s known for a long time that where Liam’s concerned, he’s completely fucked. Every little crinkly-eyed grin, every self-deprecating laugh, every poorly spelled tweet just sent him a little further towards the edge, ready to fall at any second. But that’s always been with the safety of a few hundred miles between them and a couple of mobiles or computer screens. It’s a completely different game with Liam this close. He can smell the soap he’s seen Liam recommend to his Youtube viewers, the coke he drank earlier, the expensive brand of deodorant he prefers. 

Niall’s brain has stopped functioning - a cut wire in his operating system and all he can do is stand and take in the reality of Liam here, with him. 

It’s strange that he knows Liam as well as any of his best mates, maybe better, and yet they’ve never seen each other in person before now. It shouldn’t matter - they _know_ each other. Not in this context, sure, but in all the ways that are important. 

“You look good,” Niall says because he needs to say something. Liam is incredible to look at and Niall has spent hundreds of hours looking at him, watching his Youtube videos before he got up the nerve to say something to him online and then later when they couldn’t go an hour without texting or talking on the phone, skyping with one another in nothing but their underwear, both of them turned on and breathless. 

He’s wearing a red henley underneath his jacket and his jeans are sitting on his hips, threatening to fall at any moment, the band of his Calvin Kleins peeking through. He’s unfairly beautiful. 

Liam’s smile has gone from “happy to see you,” to “picturing you naked” in the space of a minute, and Niall’s face has gone warm, the back of his neck damp. 

“You do, too,” Liam says and Niall wants to kiss him badly enough to not give a fuck that they’re in the middle of Waverly Station at the busiest time of day. He’s spent eight months wanting to kiss Liam. 

But Liam doesn’t kiss him. He steps close, right up against Niall, and wraps him up in a hug, arms tight around him, the two of them pressed together from hip to thigh, and holds on like he’s got nowhere else to be and nothing else to do. 

Liam is two inches taller than him, and bigger, broad in his shoulders and hips. Niall tucks his face into the warm curve of Liam’s throat and shivers a little at how good it feels to _finally_ touch him. It’s the kind of hug that he never wants to end and he’s cataloguing all the little things about Liam from the way they line up together to the beat of his heart. Liam smells of some kind of cologne that makes him feel dizzy with how much he _wants_ , something spicy and earthy.

He’s seen Liam with come drying on his belly and yet here he is, his face turning pink from Liam’s arms around him and their hips tucked together. 

He’s already thrumming with anticipation, of getting Liam in his bed and making him come for real without screens between them. 

Niall shivers down to the tips of his toes when Liam brushes his mouth against Niall’s jaw and whispers something Niall can’t quite make out but sounds a lot like a promise. 

* 

“Bro,” Zayn said, his voice quiet as students filled the lecture hall. He settled a hand on Niall’s arm and peered over his shoulder. “I knew you’d kill it. I’ve never heard you sound so good.” 

Niall went warm with pleasure, always preening under Zayn’s attention. He _knew_ this was one of his best. 

They were sat in their business music lecture, waiting for the professor and watching Niall’s phone light up with notifications of comments and tweets from his latest video. He’d worked out a schedule over the last few years, posting new covers to his channel on Mondays. 

In the twenty-four hours since he’d posted it to his channel, the video’s hits had doubled that of his previous video, a black and white cover of a lesser known Springsteen song. 

He wasn’t going to admit it out loud, and never to Harry, but his suggestion had been a good one. He’d chosen to do a Miguel song he and Zayn used to sing back in his first year of Uni when they were suite mates.

He’d seen some of his favorite Youtubers retweet and hype up his video and he was riding high, knowing he’d knocked this one out of the park. What Niall had kept to himself was that he’d seen Liam mention the song on his Twitter a while back and had chosen it thinking it might get Liam’s attention. 

The professor came into the room and Niall tucked his phone beneath his notes, smiling to himself at every new notification. 

An hour into the lecture, his phone buzzed with a Youtube notification that read _fitliam left a comment on your video_.

He slid lower into his seat to hide the fact that he was about to vibrate right out of his skin. He kept an eye on the professor as he slid his phone open to read the message Liam had left. 

_brilliant job, mate. this is one of my favorite songs and you did a sick job._

Niall bit his lip to hide his grin, his entire body warm, like he was glowing from the inside out. 

Zayn looked over at him, a question on his face and Niall showed him his screen. Zayn grinned at him and leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Babe, you just squealed out loud.” 

Niall made a face and didn’t care if the whole of his lecture took the piss. 

A short while later as his professor was wrapping things up for the morning, his phone buzzed again, this time with a notification that Liam had followed him on both Instagram and Twitter. 

*

Niall jolts as something buzzes against his hip. 

Liam laughs. “That’s Louis,” he says, unravelling himself from Niall and stepping back to grab his phone. Niall already misses the feel of him. 

“Louis’s worried you’re going to murder me in my sleep,” Liam says, his voice dripping fondness. 

Niall knows who Louis is - everyone who watches Liam’s videos knows about Louis. Liam’s best mate makes regular appearances in his videos, whether they’re doing ridiculous challenges or Liam’s doing a vlog filming himself going about his day with Louis making snarky commentary in the background.

Niall secretly thinks Louis’s in love with Liam, but Liam just laughed himself off the bed the one time Niall brought it up on a Skype call. 

Niall resists tugging Liam back in against him and just says, “Harry thinks the same thing. He wanted to come with me to pick you up.” 

Liam tucks his phone back in his pocket. “I’m glad you talked him out of it,” Liam says and Niall swears Liam’s eyes twinkle when he smiles. “This way I get you all to myself.”

Niall rolls his eyes but feels his face flush. “Come on, Romeo,” he says, leading Liam through the throng of people to the exit. 

Liam falls into step beside him, his hip brushing Niall’s. “So how did you convince Harry to let you come alone?”

Niall gives Liam an exaggerated sigh - they’ve shared their best friend stories, spent hours together making each other laugh. “Told him we’d meet him and Zayn for brunch in the morning,” he says, wrinkling his nose and making apologetic eyes. 

Liam makes a sympathetic sound. They both complain and take the piss, but Niall loves Harry more than just about anyone. And from the fond way Liam talks about Louis, he knows he feels the same. 

The air is cool when they step out onto Waverley Bridge. The leaves have begun to change and Edinburgh is even more beautiful this time of year. He’s excited to show his favorite place, second only to Mullingar, to his favorite boy. 

The road is busy with tour buses and taxis and they’re swept up in the rush of pedestrians as Niall tries to navigate them in the direction of his flat without getting them trampled. 

He asks Liam about the train, distracted by how close he is, the way he smells, the way his voice sounds. 

He wants to hold Liam’s hand. His palm itches with it. He could just go for it, reach out and take Liam’s hand, fit their fingers together. Niall likes him so much he sometimes feels sick with it, his stomach in knots and his head a pounding mess. He’s used to watching his mates pair up, watching them be sickeningly in love. It’s never been for him. But Liam makes him feel breathless. 

He wants this so much he’s terrified of fucking it up. 

Liam bumps into him, startling him out of his head and Niall looks up. 

“What’s going on over there? I can hear your brain buzzing.” He says it with a teasing smile. 

Niall just wants to look at Liam forever and he wants to be the kind of person who can say that without feeling like a world class idiot. 

“I want to hold your hand,” Niall blurts out and winces when he realizes what he sounds like. 

Liam is stunned quiet for a beat and then his face breaks out into a smile that makes his eyes disappear, all crinkly at the corners. 

“You’re not going to sing it to me?” Liam says with a playful grin. His cheeks have gone pink with pleasure beneath the stubble. 

They’ve always had this easy back and forth between them, somewhere between a friendly banter and blatant flirtation. His worries that they wouldn’t know what to say to each other when they finally met seem silly now because Liam is the same in person he is in his Youtube videos, over text or Twitter, and on Skype at three in the morning, fading quickly but not yet willing to say goodnight. 

Liam reaches for Niall’s hand and gives it a squeeze before finding the way their fingers interlock. His palm is warm in Niall’s and makes him think of other things, like getting Liam naked in his bed, kissing him. 

Niall’s flat is five minutes from Waverley Station, on Jeffrey Street, and less than a mile to the university. They walk through the streets like that, fingers linked and Liam looking about him with a breathless awe. 

Niall lives alone in a tiny flat above a chip shop that has fed him and his friends at many two ams after a night out drinking at the pub on the corner. He’s used to having his mates over, marathoning dvds, smoking up. It’s the first time he’s ever had someone up who means more to him than a one night stand. He unlocks the door and lets them in, trying to see it through Liam’s eyes. 

He closes the door behind them and watches Liam take it all in, his little fern hanging in the window, his guitar displayed beside the telly. It feels smaller with Liam here. Not in the way that makes him feel claustrophobic, though, more that Liam fills up the places that have always felt empty. 

“I feel like I’ve been here a hundred times,” Liam says as he looks around Niall’s space where he’s put up framed photos from Derby matches, ancient fading news articles, his collection of Eagles and Fleetwood Mac records, his little display of handdrawn cards from Theo. This is his carefully cultivated life. 

Niall understands - Liam shares so much of himself in his videos, taking his viewers into his kitchen in the morning to share his monster smoothie recipes or the part of his bedroom where he’s set up a bench press. 

“I know what you mean,” Niall says. “I’ve memorized what your bedroom looks like,” he laughs and then feels his face go hot. Which is just stupid. He’s seen Liam’s cock for fuck’s sake. 

Niall’s carefully laid out sheets and blankets on the sofa but they both know neither of them are going to end up sleeping on it. It was a back up. Just in case Liam had changed his mind, in case Niall had read all of this wrong from the beginning - which he knows isn’t the case, he’s seen Liam’s dick, watched him come all over himself from his computer screen. 

It’s a strange place to be, knowing what Liam looks like when he comes, the way his mouth falls open and the little throaty sounds he makes, but he doesn’t know what his lips taste like, the way it feels to touch him. 

Niall has plans for them to meet his friends at the pub on High Street, get dinner and have a few pints, show him what the castle looks like when the stars are out. 

Right now getting take away and spending the evening in sounds like a better plan to him. 

They have an hour or so until they’re due to meet Sean and Darragh and the others at the pub and Niall doesn’t quite know what to do. 

*

Liam had been following Niall on all of his social media accounts for a week before Niall spoke to him directly. 

He’d talked himself into, and out of, reaching out to him a dozen times in the space of five days and finally, called himself an idiot and opened up a direct message on Twitter. Never in his life had he been afraid of making friends, of chatting people up. How he felt about Liam made him anxious. He wasn’t used to being tentative. 

He spent a few endless minutes trying to decide what he wanted the first thing he said to be and finally settled on _thanks for following me. your videos are sick_. 

As first messages went it was kind of boring. But it left things open for Liam to reply if he wanted to, or ignore him if he chose. 

Harry came in from the kitchen with a tray of take away containers from the Chinese restaurant two streets over. He put the tray down on the coffee table and sat himself on the arm of the sofa, half in Niall’s lap. 

“Don’t say anything,” Niall said, tucking his phone in the pocket of his hoodie before Harry could start in. 

Harry’s eyes went wide. “I wasn’t going to say anything,” he said with his hand to the open neck of his shirt. 

Niall rolled his eyes and nudged Harry hard enough he tumbled off the sofa. 

Niall had watched Harry and Zayn fall head first into each other without so much as a glance backwards and then immediately get tangled up in drama. Niall hadn’t wanted any of it for himself and had never found someone he could be interested in. 

All he could think about these days was Liam, and they’d never even spoken. 

Harry climbed up over Niall, deliberately stepping on his dick as he did and yelping as Niall slapped him on the thigh. 

“Careful!” Harry flung himself on the other side of the sofa, throwing Niall a wounded look. “I’m fragile,” he said with a pout. 

“Fragile my arse,” Niall said and reaching for the container of rice. 

His phone vibrated. He ignored Harry’s teasing as he thumbed through his recent DM’s to find one waiting for him from Liam. 

_cheers, mate. yours are are too, love the fleetwood mac one you did._

Niall stuck his tongue out at Harry, vindicated, and settled down into the sofa cushions, the rice forgotten as he typed a response. 

*

Niall gets them both a beer from the refrigerator, just to have something to do with his hands. He gives a bottle to Liam and takes a drink from his own. He’s nervous. He’s never wanted anything the way he wants Liam and he doesn’t know what to do about it. He’s no good at taking the lead.

Niall’s had his fair share of awkward firsts and he doesn’t want things to go in that same direction. He gives Liam a sheepish smile. “I’m so nervous,” he admits at last, with a little laugh.

Relief and an answering smile flash quick and bright across Liam’s face. “Me too,” he says on a breath like he’s just been waiting for Niall to admit to it first.

Niall sets his beer on the cooktop and takes Liam’s from him to do the same. “Figure there’s only one way to get past that,” he mumbles, his pulse roaring in his ears. He gets right up in Liam’s space until their thighs are touching, until his hips match up against Liam’s and finally, eight months of wanting propelling him forward, he tilts his chin and touches his mouth to Liam’s.

He feels Liam’s breath catch, the way he holds himself still for half a beat before he relaxes into it, settling a hand at Niall’s hip and tilting his head to the side so their mouths fit together more precisely.

Niall knows from late night conversations that Liam loves kissing. He knows just talking about it makes his skin turn pink and his eyes go all dark and melty. Niall hasn’t kissed a great number of people but he knows what he likes so he pays attention to the little details. He rests his hand on Liam’s shoulder, his thumb brushing circles against his bare skin where the collar dips and Liam moves into the kiss a little further, his body seeking Niall’s. Niall drapes his other arm around Liam’s neck and does what feels right, tugging until his chest is tucked up against Liam’s and he can feel the warmth of him through their clothing.

It’s a completely foreign sensation, to be snogging someone he knows so well but until now has never met. They fit together, Niall’s thigh slotted between Liam’s, their hips and bellies meeting. Liam’s touching him where he can, his fingers beneath the hem of Niall’s t-shirt, his other hand cupping the back of Niall’s neck to anchor him where he wants him.

Niall’s half hard in his jeans, just from Liam’s lips on his. Liam is a really good kisser. His lips are soft, full against Niall’s own and he’s thorough in the way he kisses, like he’s enjoying it and trying draw it out. His stubble drags against Niall’s skin Niall tilts his head and he hisses in unexpected pleasure.

Niall has to catch his breath. He pulls back enough to rest his forehead on Liam’s shoulder, fingers digging into his hip to keep him there. 

Liam presses a kiss to Niall’s temple, a simple gesture and so sweet it makes Niall feel unsteady on his feet. Liam’s like that, has been since they first started talking, when Niall was hopelessly infatuated and didn’t know how to keep his cool about him. 

Niall tilts his chin back to give Liam a rueful smile. “I don’t know what I was thinking, making plans with the lads.” 

He feels Liam’s laugh vibrate through him and holds on a little tighter. “It’ll be fun,” Liam says, a smile in his voice. “Also, there’s a lot you can do in an hour.”

Niall goes warm at the dip in Liam’s voice, the suggestion there. “Well then,” he laughs, wrapping his fingers around Liam's wrist. "Guess we should get started," he says and drags him out of the kitchen.


End file.
